


Shorts

by VenomQuill



Series: Our Uncle Who Lives in the Woods [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Inverted Relativity Falls, Our Uncle Who Lives in the Woods, Relativity Falls, Shorts!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Stanford's an anomaly hunter, Fiddleford's a pyromaniac, and Stanley's bored. Grunkle Dipper always keeps a camera in the car. What could go wrong?





	1. Anomalies Explained by Stanford: Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We found a rather large human tooth by the shore. This is what we've discovered.

Stanford, hands behind his back, stood by the foggy lake. After a few seconds, Stanford stated, “My name is Stanford Pines, soon-to-be paranormal expert. Today, we’ll be talking about this tooth.” He stepped forward and turned the camera. Stanley stood by a rather large human tooth that, from root to crown, was nearly triple his height. Algae, moss, and bits of plant and animal alike crusted the thing.

Stanley looked at him and announced, “I’m here for scale!”

Stanford went on, “I found this while out chasing monsters.”

 _Stanford, scrapbook in hand, walked through the woods. However, as he was quite concentrated on his scrapbook, he didn’t pay nearly as much attention to road ahead as he should have. He ended up tripping, falling down the bank, and landing in the shallows of the lake with a hearty_ splash!

_Stanford shook himself and raised his head. “Is that a tooth?”_

The video cut to Stanford in front of the tooth and Stanley behind the camera. “Strangely human, it’s huge! It’s larger than any fish or lake monster I’ve ever seen. We are going to find where it came from!”

The camera hissed in static.

Stanford and Stanley walked into the bait shop. Tate McGucket picked up a few supplies and shifted them in his space behind the counter. Stanford piped up, “Hello, Mr. McGucket!”

“Stanford? Oh, hello. What brings you around here? …what’s with the camera?” Tate’s voice slowed a bit in suspicion as he saw the video camera.

Stanford smiled. “Well, we’re conducting an investigation! We found this giant tooth on the shore just a few minutes that way.” He pointed vaguely to the door. “Do you anything about that?”

“Tooth? No, don’t know nothin’ about a tooth,” Tate replied, turning around to face them fully. Even then they couldn’t see his eyes under his dirty blonde hair and fisherman’s cap.

“We were thinking about paddling out on that lake tonight.”

“Bit of friendly advice, boy: If you see bubbles on that lake, run.”

“What? Why?” Stanford kept himself composed, but his excitement was quite easy to see in his tensed muscles and puffed out chest.

“Enough questions, get that camera out of here!” Tate shooed at the camera.

Static took over the screen.

Stanford and Stanley were both on the lake shore again, though it had gotten darker. Stanford, holding the camera and a flashlight, announced. “I’m back on the lake to investigate. I brought Stanley as back up.”

“I’m gunna punch the lake monster!” Stanley vowed, punching his own hand, his brass knuckles somehow donned in the few seconds it took for Stanford to move the camera.

“No, you’re not!” Stanford scolded. “You need both your arms to row and I’m not rowing that boat alone because you decide to break your arm punching a creature whose tooth is larger than your entire body.”

“Pfft. I’ve never broken my arm punching something before.”

“Oh, yeah? I can think of a few times.”

_Stanley and Stanford walked along the beach, their shoes kicking up sand and crunching on the beach’s namesake. As they passed a rather old looking building with a large trash bin, the upturned bin’s lid flipped open with a yell to incite terror. While Stanford screamed and jumped back, Stanley whipped around, bringing his fist with him._

_Two screams of pain came from the collision, both of different ages._

_Stanley held his arm and bleeding hand while a person they’d never seen before clapped his hands over his bleeding face and retreated into the now dented bin. The man growled something in words too slurred and choked by ill use of his nose they hadn’t a clue what they meant. But, before he could be questioned–or punched again–he scrambled out of the bin and ran off._

“You’ll see! I’ll punch that lake monster right in his ugly face!” Stanley declared.

The video hissed to static.

The camera was turned to Stanley as they were now on the boat, rowing from shore. Stanley, disgruntled, no longer wore his brass knuckles.

Stanford stated, “Okay, something out there left that tooth, and we’re going to find out what it is!”

The scene cut.

They were farther in the lake, now. Stanley held up the camera to show Stanford, flashlight in hand, carefully scanning the water. Stanley prompted in a whisper, “What are we lookin’ for?”

“I don’t know, bubbles in the water, movement, something.”

The camera turned to the island behind Stanford where giant bubbles burst at the lake’s surface. “Bubbles!” Stanley gasped.

“Where?!” Stanford whipped around and, following his line of sight, focused his flashlight. “They’re by the island! We _have_ to see what happens.”

The island shook, sending giant ripples through the water and shaking their boat. The camera hissed in static and started to jump and flicker.

“What’s happening?” Stanford’s voice was louder as he held the camera.

“IT DOESN’T MATTER, JUST ROW! ROW, ROW, ROW!” Stanley frantically rowed his own oar in an attempt to escape.

Stanford set down the camera so it faced behind them and picked up his oar, hurrying to match Stanley’s pace.

The island rose out of the lake, revealing a giant, lopsided head missing a front tooth. “YNITSED RUOY TETNE! Nerdlihc, htuom ym retne. Rebmuls ym debrutsid evah uoy.” It’s grumbling, hardly understandable voice boomed over the quiet lake.

“It’s getting closer!” Stanford yelled as the floating head, dripping with water and sea plants, chased them. The both of them screamed as the head got closer and closer, sending a long, water shadow over them. Bones, human and animal alike, bristled from the bottom of the head. “KEEP ROWING!”

The camera glitched, repeating sounds and warping them and scattering video feed until it was pointless static. When it finally began working, it was half submerged in the sand. A crayfish scrambled in the sand nearby.

“I don’t know.” Stanford appeared in shot. “I’ve been looking… ah!” Stanford’s gaze snapped to the camera and he picked it up. Stanford picked it up and, back to the lake, pointed to himself. “Okay, after the giant head attacked us, it sunk into the lake again–” He gestured to the “island” that sat peacefully in the lake. “–and it lost another one of its teeth trying to eat our boat!” He gestured to their obliterated boat with a giant tooth lodged in it. He turned the camera back on himself. “But the important part is we got the footage and experience.”

“And that we’re _alive!”_ Stanley loudly reminded him.

“That, too.”

[ _Static._ ](https://sta.sh/0he37lvb35x)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tate later told them they weren't allowed in his shop with a camera again. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.


	2. Anomalies Explained by Stanford: Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We just solved the mystery of the Möbius chicken strip when this creature attacked us! Here it is on film and our struggle to contain it.

Static hissed before the camera could take the scene into view. Stanford sat in a kitchen chair by the desk spanning between his and Stanley’s bed. A chunk of the night sky could be seen in the window. A lantern shed light over the books, scattered toys, and Stanford holding a basket of chicken strips. Stanford stated merrily, “That concluded Gravity Falls Anomaly Number Thirteen, the Möbius Chicken Strip.” He held up the infinity-shaped chicken strip before eating it and hopping down. “It’s infinitely delicious.”

A gargled growl burst out close to the camera as a small shape darted past it, causing the make-shift tripod and camera to shutter. Stanford dropped the basket and took a step back. “Wha–huh? What the–?” The camera fell over. Stanford’s backpack and Stanley’s deck of playing cards scattered on the floor before the camera. Stanford swooped down, grabbed his recording equipment, and ran up to where Stanley slept. “Stanley, did you see that? Wake up!”

Stanley grumbled and flipped himself over. “Never. Lemme sleep forever.”

“Some creature jumped out of nowhere!” Stanford burst out. “It’s eating our leftover Summerween candy!”

Stanley jolted and sat up straight. “What?!”

Stanford turned around and pointed the camera at the thing. “Look!”

“Ew! Looks like a little naked dude,” Stanley commented. The furless creature, though it resembled a human, was squat and round with stubby arms and legs and a rather large mouth and eyes. Currently, it stood on all fours above a plastic basket of spilled candy, roaring in its squeaky, high-pitched voice.

“Okay, now this is ‘Anomalies Explained by Stanford: uh, That Thing’?” The monster growled and shoveled discarded candy into its mouth, seemingly ignoring the boys. It picked up the candy basket and stopped when it heard Stanley speaking.

“No, put it down. Put it down…” Stanley ordered.

The Thing, staring Stanley straight in the eyes, held the basket close and licked it with a long, dusty blue tongue. “Oh, ew!”

The scene cut to static.

The scene came back to Stanford, armed with a golf club and donned in a few books, boxes, and plastic figures duct-taped to his body. A golf bag with more clubs slung over his back and he held a trashcan in his left hand. “Okay, I’m ready. I’ve covered myself in armor.” He patted the book on his chest. “I’m going to capture him for science.”

“And for candy!” Stanley reminded him.

“Get this on tape in case I die,” Stanford reminded Stanley, staring down the monster that held prisoner their candy. As he stalked past Stanley and up to the creature, it froze, mouth-open and hand outstretched to some candy on the floor. Stanford stopped a short distance away from the pile of candy. He set the club down and pretended to scoop it toward himself. The Thing lunged, swallowed the candy whole, and darted out of reach of the bucket. Firmly grasping the bucket of candy, it skittered up a support and to the ceiling.

Stanley picked up an action figure from the ground and chucked it up. “Die, mutant, die!” The action figure flew up and then fell down and hit Stanley in the face. “Ow!”

The Thing scrambled down through the doorway, jumped onto the stairwell, and made its escape. Stanford, abandoning his trashcan, bolted after the creature. Stanley, a hand to his head and camera pointed to the stairs at his feet, followed. “Save the candy!”

They stopped in the dark living room and Stanley held the camera up again. Stanford looked around, golf club in his hands. “Where is it?” He puffed. “Have you seen it?” The Thing leapt from behind the TV with a victorious, gurgling cry and barreled into Stanford, holding onto his face. Stanford stumbled back, dropping the club as he did so, hit the living room table, and fell. Once he hit the ground, The Thing got to its feet and scrambled away.

The camera turned and blurred before landing on the kitchen. A can fell off from the top of the fridge.

The Thing sat on top of the fridge, scarfing down more candy as if under stress of dying and knocking over a box of cereal. “Aw, no!” Stanley exclaimed.

Stanford got into the shot, grabbed a can, and threw it. The Thing ducked and then started throwing candy at Stanford, who hid behind a chair. “Agk!”

“He’s wasting candy! Quick, Ford, open your mouth! Try to catch the candy in your mouth!”

Stanford stared at his brother. “What? No! Why would I–” He stopped as a piece of candy landed in his mouth. “Actually, that’s pretty good–” He huffed as a particularly large bar smacked him in the face.

The Thing jumped down and darted into the living room. But, as it did so, it stepped on the remote to the TV. The TV turned on. It stopped in its tracks and stared at the screen. Then, it dropped the candy and backed off until it was sitting on the chair, staring at the TV with complete attention.

Stanley ran inside. “Hey! It’s hypnotized by the TV.”

Stanford laughed as he got into the shot. “And he dropped the candy. What a little dummy. Glue to the…” Stanford’s sentence started to trail off as he caught sight of the TV. “–to the… Oh. I love this movie.”

Static hissed before calming.

The camera, sitting somewhere next to the TV, faced the trio. The Thing sat on one arm of the couch while Stanford, no longer donned in armor, sat on the other and Stanley sat on the cushion. The golf club bag was propped up next to Stanford and candy surrounded them all. While the kids ate candy, The Thing ate a golf club.

“Shouldn’t we,” Stanford started, munching on a piece of chocolate. “–do something about the monster?”

“Candy now, monster later,” Stanley stated, grabbing another piece of candy without looking away from the TV.

The Thing finished its golf club and whimpered, holding its hands out to Stanford. Stanford passively took out a golf club and passed it to The Thing, who went back to watching TV and happily munching on the golf club.

“Well, that’s it for this episode. The next episode will probably be about getting rid of this candy-eating monster.”

[ _Static._ ](https://sta.sh/01hd669wxmvi)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, they ran out of golf clubs and the monster was never heard from again.


	3. Anomalies Explained by Stanford: Dipper's Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grunkle Dipper doesn't really hide anything, but he's always been a bit nervous. We discovered something that might explain his jumpiness! If only we can get close enough to study it...

The camera turned on to show Stanford in their room. A board next to him was covered in pictures that had been taped on. A pair of fingers hovered in front of the camera, “squishing” Stanford’s head. Stanford, hands behind his back, stated, “Hello, I’m Stanford Pines. The boy trying to squish my head is Stanley.”

The hand waved, and Stanley piped up, “I’m helping!”

“Today on ‘Anomalies Explained by Stanford’–”

Stanley went back to making squishing noises and tried squishing Stanford’s head.

Stanford waved him away. “Enough. Enough of that. Today, we investigate Anomaly number twenty-three, Grunkle Dipper’s secret tattoo.” He gestured to the board. Stanley turned the camera to focus on the board and pictures pinned to it. It was a collage of various pictures of Dipper’s right shoulder blade. There were very few of them, so sketches and research had been pinned up as well.

Stanford went on, “Grunkle Dipper is very rarely seen without his trench coat–even in the summer!” He pointed to a picture of Grunkle Dipper giving a tour, right before the lights were turned off, next to another of Grunkle Dipper in his day clothes. “We didn’t think too much of it until one night…” He pointed to the third picture. Dipper wasn’t in his trench coat, jeans, and faded red shirt. Instead, he was in a threadbare t-shirt whose color had long been lost to time and old underwear. He was facing away, holding a flashlight that was pointed toward where Stanley had been hiding with a few pilfered treats. The next picture was nearly the same, though the camera had zoomed in to show Grunkle Dipper’s right shoulder blade, where a bluish symbol was stamped into his skin and half-hidden under the old shirt. “What is he hiding? A college prank? Secret symbol? Or something stranger?” Stanford indicated the other pictures, most of them research or sketches of what the tattoo could be, but a few pictures sneakily taken of the back of his shoulder. “Dipper claims it doesn’t exist, but today we’re going to find out.”

The scene changed.

Stanford stood in the hallway in front of the thermometer, Susan next to him. “This is Susan Wentworth.”

“I’m the only person they could find who’s willing to go behind Mr. Pines’ back. Literally!” Susan snickered.

Stanford nodded. “Yep. Now, here’s the plan. Dipper _never_ takes off his trench coat.” He walked up to the camera. “ _Obviously_ to hide his tattoo.” He walked back to the thermometer. “But Susan and I are about to ‘turn up the heat’ on this mystery.” With a smug smirk, he raised the dial from sixty-eight degrees to a hundred.

“Heh! Literally!”

The screen cut to static, then changed to the gift shop, where the camera was hidden between a few books and a jar. Stanley, damp with sweat but eyes and smile bright, walked up behind Grunkle Dipper, who was looking over a book. “Hey, Grunkle Dipper! It’s pretty hot in here, today, huh?”

“Probably just a heatwave,” Grunkle Dipper dismissed.

“It must be pretty hot wearing that really big coat everywhere.”

“No, not really.”

“You’d be much cooler if you took your coat off,” Stanley offered.

Susan, who’d walked up behind Stanley, nodded. “Mhm! Mrs. Grendinator says that whenever it gets too hot, she lets employees take their shirts off!”

Grunkle Dipper looked up. “Actually, you know what, Stanley? Hold down the shop for a moment. I’m going to find something to bleach my mind.” With that, he walked off.

Stanley and Susan watched him go. After a moment, Stanley shrugged. “I’d do the same.”

“Shut up!” Susan punched his shoulder, causing him to yelp.

The screen cut to Stanford in the living room, the camera pointed at himself. “Okay, Plan B.” He pointed the camera to Grunkle Dipper, who sat in the living room chair. “Oh no! Is that a tick on your shoulder? Let me get that for you.” He reached for the sleeve of Grunkle Dipper’s coat. He smacked the kid’s hand away without looking away from the TV.

“Ford, if you’re trying to see my tattoo, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

“Aha!” Stanford exclaimed. “I thought you said you didn’t have a tattoo!”

“I don’t.” Grunkle Dipper picked up a marker and looked at Stanford. “But you do.”

“What do you–ahh!”

The camera hissed in static.

Stanford, the word “GOOBER” written on his forehead, stood in the hallway in front of the camera. The hissing of running water came from behind the door next to them. He sighed. “Okay, Plan C. Dipper is in the shower. I wish it hadn’t come to this, but sometimes you must do terrible things for science.”

Stanley piped up from behind the camera, “I believe in you, Goober!”

“Stanford. Just call me Stanford,” he crossed tersely before taking the camera. He walked past Stanley, who was smiling devilishly with his hands behind his back, and opened the bathroom door. Steam fogged the camera lens and Stanford’s glasses almost immediately. After a moment’s hesitation, Stanford pulled back the curtain.

Grunkle Dipper, livid and wearing his work outfit, stood in the shower, eyes narrowed and frown deep as he glowered at Stanford. Water from the still running tap ran down his face and sodden clothes. “You’re never gunna see it, Ford. Never. Gunna. See it.”

Stanford blinked. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Give me that camera!” Grunkle Dipper snapped and reached for the recording device in Stanford’s hands. Stanford yelped, and the screen turned to static.

The camera faced Stanford, who sat in a lawn chair on the roof. Stanford cleared his throat. “So, I just figured I would stay on the roof for a while…”

 _“I’M GUNNA FIND YOU, FORD!”_ Grunkle Dipper’s yell caused a few birds to squawk and flutter away.

Stanford jumped. He narrowed his eyes and stared hard into the camera. “Well, that’s it for this episode. Dipper’s tattoo remains a mystery, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be uncovered.”

[ _Static._ ](https://sta.sh/01jzei6xp7fc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grunkle Dipper was very adamant about never doing anything like that again, even threatening to take away the camera permanently. They probably won't.


	4. Anomalies Explained by Stanford: The Hide-Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lumberjack legends in Gravity Falls suggests there is a mysterious creature who follows anyone who dares enter the woods. As an anomaly hunters and soon-to-be paranormal experts, it's our job to get to the bottom of it.

The camera turned on to show Stanford in his room, a backpack laden with supplies over his shoulders. Stanley whispered from behind the camera, “We’re on!”

“Oh.” Stanford stood up straight. “Hello and welcome to another episode of ‘Anomalies Explained by Stanford’.”

Stanley held up one of the space-ship keychains from Grunkle Dipper’s shop and pressed it. It glowed and made a spooky _wee-ooo_ trill.

“Thank you. Today, we investigate Gravity Falls anomaly number 132: The Hide Behind.”

The camera cut to a close-up of Scrapbook Three–more specifically the page over the Hide-Behind. Stanford went on, “Local lumberjacks tell of a mysterious creature, always just out of sight. But these photos suggest it might actually be real!” Stanford turned the camera to himself with a smug smile. “Either way, I intend to find out.”

Stanley jumped up behind Stanford, screaming and waving his arms. “Raaaaaaar! I’m the Hide-Behind!”

Stanford squealed and dropped the camera. “Ugh! _Stanley!_ ”

The camera hissed in static before cutting to “Tough Girl” Wendy. In the background was a cabin and a trio of boys sawing through a redwood tree nearby. Stanley held a strip of carboard reading “TOUGH GIRL WENDY” with the smaller words “LUMBERJACK/BEAR-WRANGLER” underneath of it.

“Hide-Behind? Oh, he’s real alright. Real as my hat! He was behind me once, made this sound.” She narrowed her eyes and wiggled her fingers. “ _Tchktchktchktchktchktchk._ Very spooky.”

Behind her, the tree Wendy’s sons were cutting down cracked and tottered.

“Mooom!” Wendy’s eldest son yelled.

“It’s comin’ down!” The middle son exclaimed, running away.

“Tough Girl” Wendy whipped around. The tree began to fall. “Wha–oh no!”

The camera cut to the inside of the diner.

Stanley held up a strip of cardboard that read “GROWLING GRENDA” with the words “WAITRESS/PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER PROBABLY” under it.

“Growling” Grenda held a mug in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. Behind her, a man with a gray mustache piped up, “Can I get a refill, ma’am? Refill?”

“Growling” Grenda stated, “Oh the Hide Behind is _definitely_ real. I’ve never seen him, but I’ve met people who have. Very sneaky.”

The camera cut to the back porch. Grunkle Dipper in his normal day clothes sat on the couch.

Stanley held up a strip of cardboard. “GRUNKLE DIPPER” was stated in bold letters with “GREAT UNCLE/MEDIOCRE BOSS” under it.

“Don’t believe every legend you hear, Ford,” Grunkle Dipper stated. “People say they see weird things all the time, but you ask them later and they’ve already forgotten about it.” He shook his head. “The Hide-Behind’s just a rumor.” He chuckled. “You want a mystery? How about the mystery of why–” He yelped and recoiled as a shadow shot past them. _Tchktchktchktchktchktchk!_ “What the–?!”

“That’s it!” Stanford exclaimed and ran after it. For a moment, the camera was pointed back at Grunkle Dipper, Stanley holding a boom mic, and Fiddleford keeping steady a large light. Then, the camera turned around to face in front of him as Stanford raced through the undergrowth.

Grunkle Dipper sat up straight. “We’re doing an interview here!”

Stanley yelled, “Ford!”

“I’m coming for you,” Stanford puffed, looking every which way as he ran. How he didn’t stumble and fall was a mystery of itself. “Where is he? Where is he?”

The camera hissed in static and then cut to a small, leafless, branchless tree in the woods.

Stanford, a slight huff in his breath, stated, “Alright. After hours of searching, I’ve narrowed it down to this one tree.” Something behind the tree hiss-chittered back.

Stanford turned the camera around to face him. “I know what you’re thinking: how do you catch a creature that’s always behind you? How about…” He stepped back, leaving the camera on a makeshift tri-pod. Stanford had covered himself in mirrors and sticks attached to mirrors. “Nothing will sneak up on Stanford Pi–”

Stanford yelped as he was hit in the head with a branch and stumbled back. Stanley fell into the shot, legs hooked in a branch above and another branch in his hand. “Blind spot! Hahaha!”

“Oof! I’m down!” Stanford wheezed. “Stanford down!”

The camera hissed, and the scene changed.

Stanford held the camera up to himself. Stanley, buzzing in excitement, stood behind him. Stanford looked over the camera and to the tree. “This is it. We are finally going to see the Hide Behind!” He turned the camera to the tree and stepped forward. “Three… two… one…!” He jumped around, camera held up, to the tree. An owl with a colorful maraca in its beak stared up at him. “A-ha… what?”

Stanley ran around to his side and laughed. “Oh, cool! I think one of your clones found a maraca!” Stanford glowered at Stanley.

The camera hissed and changed, this time on the ground looking up at Stanford.

Stanford wormed out of his mirror suit with a huff and grumbled, “Ugh. Well, based on lack of evidence, I have to conclude anomaly number 132, the Hide Behind… is just a legend.” With a sigh, he turned around and slunk off in the direction of home.

A very tall, lanky, wooded creature stood up from behind the small tree and started to follow Stanford. _Tchktchktchktchktchktchk!_

Stanford spun around. The Hide-Behind slipped behind a tree, lifting one leg, tilting its head, and bending its fingers to match the shape of the three. “What was that? …huh. Nothing, I guess.” Stanford turned around and continued walking. The Hide-Behind went out into the open and followed him again. After hissing, it bolted behind a tree and shifted until it matched that one, too. Stanford spun around, glared behind him, and continued walking.

[ _Static._ ](https://sta.sh/02clohp1d87i)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hide-Behind still eludes everyone. Hopefully they don't try to go camping. Also, hopefully they go back for that footage.


	5. Fiddleford Fixes: Golf Cart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley and Dan broke Mr. Pines' Space Shack Cart, so it's up to me to fix it.
> 
> -Recorded by Ivan

Fiddleford stood in living room with Stanley and Dan. Dan sat on the couch, relaxed as could be, while Stanley stood beside Fiddleford, who stood stiffly with his hands behind his back. After a few seconds, Ivan spoke from behind the camera. “Okay, it’s on!”

Stanley nudged Fiddleford, prompting him to speak. “O-okay. So, what did you break this time?”

Stanley scoffed. “Don’t give me that tone! Anyway, Dan and I were just doing normal work stuff with the golf cart…”

_Dan and Stanley sat in the cart, racing the thing as fast as it could go toward a set of ramps, one on either side of Grunkle Dipper’s car._

_“Jump! Jump! Jump!” They chanted as the cart raced toward the ramp. It ended up driving up halfway before tipping over. One of the wheels burst into flames._

Dan shrugged. “And now the cart’s broken for some reason. You think you could fix it?”

“Yeah.” Fiddleford replied with a shrug and then hesitated. “But I get to do my own modifications, right?”

Stanley and Dan looked at each other. Stanley shrugged. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

Fiddleford grinned.

The scene changed to Fiddleford, Stanley, and Dan in the backyard. Fiddleford and Stanley both wore blue worker’s jumpsuits while Dan sat on the couch outside with a magazine. The battered cart had been dragged over to them. Fiddleford put his hands on his hips. “Yep. That looks like normal work damage alright.”

Stanley elbowed Fiddleford. “Oh, hey, do you think they’ll let me into the auto shop if I wear this?”

Fiddleford shook his head. “Nope. Anyway, we should get working on this.”

The screen cut to static. When the static cleared, Ivan was in front of the repaired cart with the hood up. Fiddleford stood over the engine while Stanley paced in the background. Fiddleford looked over and nodded. “Okay, looks like a problem with the fuel injector. Lee, try the engine now.”

Stanley perked up and ran over to the cart. When he turned it on, the engine growled to life without sputtering. Fiddleford shut the hood with an accomplished smile.

“Hey!” Stanley laughed. “You did it, man!”

Fiddleford grinned. “Yep! But I’m not done yet. This thing could do with a few improvements…”

Stanley groaned. “Ugh…”

The screen cut again.

Dan, Stanley, and Fiddleford, all back in their normal clothes, stood beside the cart, which was covered by a white tarp. Fiddleford took the white tarp and pulled it back. “Behold!” The two gasped. The cart was shiny and well washed, but had what looked like turbo boosters on the side, pretty lights ringing the roof, and new paint on the side. “Now let’s make this jump.”

The screen cut again. This time, Fiddleford drove with Stanley in the passenger seat and Dan in the back with Ivan, who still held the camera. The cart drove toward the ramps, which had been put up again. Stanley glanced at Fiddleford. “I don’t think we have enough speed to make it!”

Fiddleford cackled. “Hit the nitrous boosters!”

Dan gasped. “Aren’t those _illegal?_ ”

“You bet they are!” Fiddleford slammed his hand down on a button by the steering wheel. The engine snarled and the turbo boosters on the sides of the cart puffed in blue flames. The cart sped up significantly. The kids laughed as the cart took the ramp and became airborne.

Stanley looked down. “We’re clearin’ it! We’re clearin’ it!”

Fiddleford threw one hand in the air. “What do you guys think?”

“You’re insane!” Stanley laughed, gripping the dashboard with both hands.

“Ten out of ten!” Dan agreed and Stanley picked up the chant.

“Thanks, guys!”

Their euphoria quickly turned to horror as the cart’s nose tipped down. Fiddleford gasped. “Oh no! Ah, watch ou–”

The camera cut to static. When it reappeared, all four passengers were scattered on the ground. The cart was stuck in a split in one of the trees a few yards away from the Space Shack. Dan sat up. “Ugh. Everyone alive?”

Stanley, face down, held up his arm with a muffled “I’m alright!”. Fiddleford sat up and rubbed his head. Ivan picked up the camera and held out a thumbs up.

Fiddleford took a deep breath. “Well. That was fun! Cart’s broken again, though.”

Dan put a hand on the back of his neck. “You know, we should probably take it to an auto shop next time.”

“Aw, but Ah fixed it way better than new! …Ah’ll take out the nitrous boosters.”

“Yeah, fair plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stanley never again questioned why "Old Woman" Chui and Tate banned Fiddleford from certain tools, such as the welder.

**Author's Note:**

> And with that, the shorts come to a swift end, my friends.


End file.
